You Can Hold My Hat A bar fight scene
by WhimsicalMayhem
Summary: Our favorite group of adventurers get into a sticky situation in a tavern one night...cue bar fight  .  One-shot Rated T to be safe,and becasue of some references.


**You Can Hold My Hat; A bar fight scene**

**I own nothing...*sigh*...again.**

It was late. Jazz had dropped off Salsa, March, Beat, and Polka off at the Inn; the last room in the Inn. The only other vacancy in the town was the Tavern.

Jazz sighed. The last place he wanted to stay the night was above a bar in a rather wild town of smiths and foresters, but he really wasn't given a whole lot of choice.

Damn.

Jazz entered first, Falsetto close at his side. Viola did the same with Frederic. They had made the ploy up if ever indeed they were in this position; men tended to stay away from women who were taken. Retto took up the rear, trying to look older than he really was, which was a lot younger than was allowed in such a place as this.

Jazz stepped up the host and ordered two rooms; one for the girls and one for the guys. After that they took at seat at one of the sparsely populated tables. No sooner had they sat down, a waiter arrived.

"Drinks, ladies and gentlemen?" he asked

"Yeah, four waters and one milk." said Jazz. Viola smiled; she had made sure he would get that right.

"Ah...are you sure you don't want anything more...alcoholic? This is a bar, you know." prompted the waiter.

"No. You have our orders."

The waiter, not paid to ask question, strode off in search of more sane people than the ones sitting at that table.

"Do you think that the kid will be alright with Polka?" asked Viola as she leaned back in her chair.

"Should be, she seems to be good with them." stated Frederic.

"Beat will behave himself, believe me." said Retto. "And I don't think March will be much of a problem. With their combined effort they should be able to get a handle on Salsa."

"True." sighed Viola

The waiter came over to the table and distributed the drinks. When he got to Allegretto he gave a disapproving stare.

"Oy, how old are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Um...old enough to be here?" Retto tried, but to no avail.

"Scat kid, happy hours coming up."

"But he's staying at the tavern with us." piped up Falsetto.

"And that's where he should be staying. Now off with ya!"

Retto begrudgingly got up and headed up the stairs to the rooms above. Once the waiter was content that he would stay up there he left the table and the group to their drinks. As the waiter had mention, happy hour was here and the bar quickly filled with despicable characters of all shapes and sizes. They drank like fishes and were constantly cat-calling to the serving women. A few minor brawls even broke out amongst them.

Not wanting to be in the presents of these figures anymore, the group had gotten up to see how Allegretto was faring upstairs. They had not gotten but to the first step when they heard a familiar scream pierce the bar-room airi.

"That's Polka!" exclaimed Frederic, turning away from the stairs. She was in fact near the bar, to his utter horror, backing away from some truly dangerous looking men.

Frederic and Jazz jumped in fast, pulling the men away from Polka and snatching her away. She stood behind Frederic, clutching the back of his frock coat and shaking.

"Oy, that was _ours_." slurred a large man who strained to get a view of Polka. She hid farther behind Frederic.

"She's not anybodies, especially not a piece of filth like you." said Viola, stepping in front of the drunken man, Falsetto following behind.

"Ho, ho, what have we here? You wanna-"

Polka missed the next sting of words, as Falsetto had jumped into action and covered her ears. The man and Viola seemed to be exchanging angry words, which was to say, until the man made a move on Viola and she punched him in the face.

The bar exploded into movement as old vendettas resurfaced in the more than accepting opportunity of a massive bar fight. Falsetto, abandoning Polka's ears, leapt into the fray, round house kicking the first drinker she could see. Jazz also took no time in felling the fighters as they approached him. He dodged broken chair legs and sharp shards of glass as the melee continued around him. Viola, the focus of more than one man looking for retribution, fought with amazing speed and accuracy. She used the long bar to her advantage as she slid along it, picking up plausible weapons as she went.

"Just like old times, eh Jazz?" shouted Falsetto as she smashed a man's face in with a broken chair leg. Jazz, preferred not to reminisce as he leapt from round table to round table to avoid the mob that was following, closely watched Frederic, as to note if he needed assistance while protecting Polka. He was almost surprised to see that he was doing very well.

The pianist drop kicked a man who lunged at him, sending him flying into a rather large crowd that had gathered behind him.

"I'm sorry!" Polka sobbed, still clutching his coat.

"Not your fault." he grunted as he administered a ratty looking man a powerful right hook.

"So there anything I can do to help?"

The word "no" formed quickly on his lips, but then he thought better of it.

"Yes." he said "You can hold my hat." He took off his ever present top hat and shoved it into Polka's arms, revealing his messy, thick dark hair. Then, without stop, he turned and round house kicked the nearest man.

Viola had come to Falsetto's aid, who had been struck across the face with the back of a chair. Trying to ignore what was likely to become a grizzly shiner, she managed to get back on her feet, although it didn't look like it would be for long. Viola had viciously kicked a man in the lower portion when Retto came running down the stairs.

"What the hell is going on here?" he yelled above the noise.

"What does it look like to you?" answered Viola, shoving a man away.

Retto folded his arms across his chest. He seemed to be safe in the general area of the stairway, as no bar patrons decided to fight him.

"It looks like you guys started a bar fight."

The cool and aloofness in the statement agitated Viola. Here she was fighting against a bar full of stinky, drunken pigs and he had the audacity to comment on her moral ground!

Well, she would fix that.

"We were trying- the goat farmer paused to brutally beat a patron with his own beer mug - to save Polka!"

The youths face changed drastically from one of cockiness to one of worry.

"Polka? What's she doing in here? Is she okay? Where is she?" Viola pointed mutely to the figure of Frederic, who had ducked to dodge a flying bar stool. Retto stepped out of the threshold and was immediately whisked into battle.

Falsetto watched the battle unfold. She had ducked behind the bar to catch some much needed breath, when she noticed the cash box sitting on the ground, unattended. Falsetto had never been much of a moral person, but she reckoned that it would be okay if she just took the money they had paid to get into the place, since they didn't seem to be staying here any longer.

There was a thud and Jazz collided with the back wall, falling in front of Falsetto. He hauled himself to his knees and shook his head.

"We gotta get out of here." he murmured, "There are too many of them." He then turned quite suddenly to Falsetto. "And go ahead. I call it compensation for injuries...except without the legal problems." Before she could respond, he was already back in the fray.

Allegretto punched a man in the stomach and slipped between his legs, running right into Jazz in the process.

"We need to leave." the leader of Andantino said. "I got the girls, you tell Frederic and Polka." Retto nodded and started down there way.

"Frederic!" he shouted. "We need to leave, now!"

The older man nodded and, with a great burst of adrenaline, shoved his way through the crowd and out the door, Polka trailing along. Once outside, they ran until they had reached the Inn, far enough away to deem safe.

"Polka." said Frederic slowly, "Why did you enter the bar unaccompanied?" He was trying to hold the aggression from his voice, but it wasn't easy. She had scared him. If they would have walked upstairs sooner, who knows what would have happened?

Actually, he did know what would have happened but, Frederic, being the gentleman that he is, did not let the disturbing and frightening thought stay for very long. The point was she was safe now.

Polka had long since dried her tears, but the fear and shook was still plainly etched on her face.

"I'm sorry, but I redid the math and found that you would be short on money to buy your rooms, so I had to come and bring it to you."

They _had_ been short, but Viola had taken care of that in her own...personal ways, the likes of which he was not going to repeat to the younger child. Frederic hung his head it defeat.

"It's okay Polka, just...please don't do it again." even as he said it he knew she wouldn't; there were lessons you only had to experience once to learn.

The young girl nodded and then, to his surprise, presented him with his hat, completely unscathed. He reached up to his mop of hair; he had forgotten he had taken it off.

"Ah," he said reaching out and replacing in atop his head. "Thank you."

Jazz, Viola, Falsetto, and Retto came jogging up, having escaped from the still battling tavern.

"Is she alright?" they all asked at the same time.

"Shaken, but fine, I believe." answered Frederic. Viola and Falsetto swarmed the girl, asking her questions and filling her in on the details of the fight she might have missed. The men just stood back and watched.

"So, where'd a pianist learn to fight like that?" asked Jazz, taking a sideways glance at the tall man next to him.

"Let us just say that some habits die harder than others; after all we were all boys once."

"Speak for yourself." muttered Retto, who also let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like the word "old". Ignoring the youth, Frederic went on.

"Well, since were not staying the night at the Tavern, I guess this whole endeavor was a waste." he sighed.

"No, Falsetto got the money back." answered Jazz

"Should I inquire...?"

"Preferably not."

"We are staying outside the town then?"

"Yup."

"What about the children?"

"Falsetto's taking care of it."

"Ah"

There was a long silence, and then Jazz let out a long drawn out sigh.

"See, this is why I never go into bars."

**FIN**

Annnnnnd done! Hope you enjoyed :D

i It's a different kind of air as to be compared to, oh let's say, fresh air, or musty attic air.


End file.
